


Questions

by Naughty_Yorick



Series: The Alphabet Game [18]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Pining, Questions, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27371674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naughty_Yorick/pseuds/Naughty_Yorick
Summary: “Anyway,” Jaskier continued, “Questions about monsters are the only ones you’ll answer.”Jaskier asks Geralt a lot of questions: Questions about hunts, questions about monsters. When Geralt chastises him for his curiosity, he realises that there's far more Jaskier leaves unsaid. He just can't work out why.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Alphabet Game [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983026
Comments: 11
Kudos: 303





	Questions

**Author's Note:**

> I challenged myself to write a fic for every letter of the alphabet. I took each letter, plugged it into a random word generator and wrote a fic based on whichever word it gave me. This letter is "Q", and the word is "questions"! See more of my Alphabet Challenge on my tumblr, [here!](https://a-kind-of-merry-war.tumblr.com/post/632799468062916608/alphabet-game-master-post)

“You ask too many questions,” said Geralt.

Jaskier’s pen hovered above the page of his notebook where he’d been making notes on Slyzards. 

“Really?” He said, cocking his head to one side. “What would you rather?”

“Silence.”

“Hmm…” Jaskier paused, “No, that doesn’t sound good at all. How am I supposed to detail your heroic deeds if I don’t have all the information? Geralt bravely fought against the Slyzard, a terrible beast known chiefly for…” he looked down at his notes, then read aloud, “ _fuck off Jaskier, I’ve not got time for your inane stories_.” He grinned. "No, that won’t do.”

Geralt poked at the fire.

“Anyway,” Jaskier continued, “Questions about monsters are the only ones you’ll answer.”

“Is that so?”

“Not that I need to ask you about _yourself_ , of course…”

“No?”

“I mean… could ask you about your brothers: but I know they’re called Lambert and Eskel. Lambert is a prick, but you love him regardless. Vesemir was your tutor but feels more like a father. I could ask where you go in winter, but I know you go to Kaer Morhen, someplace in the Northern mountains.”

Geralt didn’t say anything, and Jaskier continued.

“Perhaps that’s too vague. I could ask your favourite food, or drink… but I know you enjoy honey, fresh from the hive, and you’re partial to a Kaedwenian Stout. I could ask where you most enjoy travelling, but I know you love the mountains of Skellige and the lakes in Toussaint. Speaking of Toussaint: your favourite wine is Erveluce.” 

It was - odd. Hearing Jaskier rattle off Geralt’s life like he was reading it from a list. Jaskier had never actually asked him about Kaer Morhen, or his brothers, or Erveluce… and yet he just knew. For all his chattering, he was listening, all the time. But - if he was happy to ask about hunts, and didn’t need to ask about Geralt - then what else could he possibly need to know?

“So…” Geralt said, cautiously, “what questions won’t I answer?”

Jaskier dropped his gaze, peering into the fire. It was hard to tell in the low light, but he appeared to be blushing.

“Isn’t it enough to know you won’t answer them?” He said, finally.

“How do you know I won’t if _you_ don’t ask them in the first place?”

Jaskier looked at him, and his eyes shimmered, reflecting the dancing flames of the campfire. He swallowed, and Geralt was struck with the sudden smell of fear. Jaskier began to nervously twiddle his fingers together.

“I can’t.” His voice was small, huddled in on itself.

“Why not? Because I won’t answer?”

He smiled at the flames, sadly. “Actually,” he said, “I’m worried that you will answer, but I won’t like what you say.”

“Jaskier-”

“It’s fine, Geralt. Forget I said anything.” He reached down once more for his notebook, flipping it open and peering at his notes. Geralt couldn’t bear the sudden silence - Jaskier’s lost expression.

“It spits fire.”

“What?”

“Fire _balls_ , technically. The Slyzard.”

“Oh.”

“It was grey. Huge wings, like leather. Three-clawed toes. Venomous tail.”

Jaskier looked up, eyes wide. “Venomous _tail?”_

Geralt nodded. “Extremely dangerous.” He moved forwards, so he could sit closer to Jaskier, who was now staring at him with an enraptured expression. “What do you need to know?”

Jaskier chewed on his lip. “First thing,” he said, quickly. “How did you kill it?”

Geralt smiled. “With great difficulty.”


End file.
